


The Captive King

by Heerayni



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Politics, Rating may change in future, Romance, post Kings Rising
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5995468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heerayni/pseuds/Heerayni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stiff and golden stamped scroll in his hand slips a bit from his silky grip and it takes all of his endurance and control to not crush it in his palm and destroy it irrevocably. For it is a tangible reminder of what his reticence, pride and impulsiveness has cost him.<br/>A Royal wedding announcement from Akielos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing this on a trial basis. If this works out, there will be more of this. I promise.

**Chapter 1**

 

He wonders in retrospect, when it was that he had truly lost the game?

Was it from the first moment he had laid eyes on the Lion of Akielos; trapped and almost broken in front of him? Tied to the last remnant of his dignity, yet so full of pride?

He closes his eyes for a moment and wonders what servants around him make of him standing here, in the golden cage where he once held a golden lion, and had thought he had tamed that magnificent creature for good.

The stiff and golden stamped scroll in his hand slips a bit from his silky grip and it takes all of his endurance and control to not crush it in his palm and destroy it irrevocably. For it is a tangible reminder of what his reticence, pride and impulsiveness has cost him.

A Royal wedding announcement from Akielos.

King Damianos is to take Rhona of Ios as his bride at the start of the inevitable summer.

‘How appropriate!’ the thought is bitter like a potent poison in his mind.

A moment of cheer and absolute joy for whole of Akielos, when its king and his greatest adviser and general Nikandros join their families and become brothers-in-law.

Rhona of Ios, Nikandros’ sister. He remembers her some from the succession feast. Dark hair, brilliant forest green eyes and an inherent grace that even he had taken notice of. Her smile for Damen had been so familiar and so joyful and Damen in return had been bashful and joyous in return, there had been more on his face for her than for any other ladies that had come to present themselves to the new king of Akielos. It had taken a pinch out of him for a moment, there was history there and a sincere friendship too. 

If he thought about it practically, pragmatically, it was more than an ideal match.

But Damen had ripped him open without his knowledge and taken out his practicality and pragmatism and stomped on it with both his feet before replacing both of his most prized qualities with possessiveness and obsession.

He remembers the pain and hurt in those dark eyes, eyes of a king a moment ago, and then of a man who had lost everything. He remembered his words that had caused that pain. He remembers the coldness in his heart once the illusion came to an end.

 

> “I needed a victory at Charcy. You provided it. It was worth enduring your fumbling attentions for that.”
> 
>  

In the aftermath and all that had happened at the trial and the Akielon court, he might have foolishly thought that all was forgiven and forgotten.

But Damen had done something that to Laurent, was uncharacteristic.

He had remembered that conversation. He had remembered it and then taken it for what it was.

Damen had surrendered to his scheme and his demands. As a king Damen had given in. But not as a lover.  

Days following that conversation, Damen had processed it. Had tried to beat the hurt out of his heart, that Laurent had so mercilessly wounded.

And Laurent had seen all of it at a distance. Watched carefully as a brave Lion licked at his wounds.

And Laurent had played another more elaborate game.

And Laurent had apparently won that game as well.

And Laurent had also realized how much he genuinely loved Damianos.

How much he desired Damen.

How enslaved and tangled he was.

That was mistake that he cannot bring himself to call one.

What Laurent had not seen, what outcome Laurent had not worked out was

That Damen had conquered the hurt Laurent had inflicted.

That where Laurent took heart and warmth from Damen, learnt to embrace the spirit of sacrifice.

Damen had taken pragmatism and an un-erring memory from Laurent.

He had hoped in his secret heart that following the trial and their successions, Damen would declare his love for Laurent again and this time, Laurent would embrace it. Laurent would declare back. He had hoped for it, expected it, was sure of it…

But it never came. As Laurent tended to his new kingdom and assisted Damen in tending to his own during his recuperation, he started to come across a strange fortification around Damen’s heart that was flexible but impregnable for Laurent.

Damen had fought for Laurent, was ready to lay his life for Laurent. Would take an arrow, sword, dagger to the heart for Laurent, without a second thought.

But ‘Damianos’ would not let Laurent hold that heart any longer.

And Laurent’s pride was always his downfall.

Laurent had forgotten, Laurent had hoped, but Damianos had not forgotten. Damianos no longer held any hope for him.

And Laurent’s pride was stiff enough to not beg, grovel or even express his true heart to Damianos.

His heart aches enough now to feel as if it would kill him.

Damen. His Damen in hands of someone else.

In bed of someone else.

If only he had given just a little bit.

It did not have to be in front of anyone. None of their confessions ever were, which was why he thought he had estimated Damen so accurately.

He had taken and taken and given only a little bit back, and that too he had soiled in the worst possible way. He had infected Damianos with the worst of him. And now he suffers for it with every passing moment and every breath inhaled.

Everything in the room has remained as it was when Damen occupied it.

And how beautifully Damen had trapped Laurent.

With a single move against hundreds of Laurent’s, Damen had won this game.

Laurent would go see Damianos of Akielos pledging himself and his heart to someone else even if it killed him.

He touches the golden brace on his wrist reverently.

He has lost this game. He deserves the loser’s shame.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful responses this has been getting! This is becoming rather fun to write. While there is going to be a plot to this. I usually write more about emotional facets of characters and how they impact on each other. So there will be a lot of introspection in this story. There will be thoughts and ideas and expressions and lots of it. I play the long game, though I do not intend to make 'this' very long, if you want rapid plot developments and straight forward characterizations, this is not the story for you. This is going to be complicated and very immersive emotionally. So be warned. It might become harrowing, but I promise ample payoff.

**Chapter 2**

“Kingship has changed you…”

It is more the tone than the voice that brings Laurent out of his thoughts.

He looks at his councilor, a hot wave of anger rises in his chest at the poorly hidden pity on her face.

This is another of the many things that Damen has changed. Contaminated. Destroyed _. ‘Cultivated’ a thought whispers._

His anger, his madness now boils inside him, like a volatile acid rather than the freezing crystalizing, blizzard that it used to be.

He wants to wring Vannes’ neck with his hands. And it makes him even angrier that this is what he wants.

Is there no escape from these barbaric impulses? His rational-self despairs dramatically.

No, there is always an escape. If he would just stop feeling.

But that has always been his problem. He has always felt too much.

Feeling is a sure-fire death of reason.

Since when did his inner-most secrets become common known facts for others to comment upon? Harp on?

“Change is essential for progress. I think we can all do with a little change.” He says calmly.

The look in her eyes changes with his utterance.

A little respect shows through, and it’s encouraging.

He forgives her a little. Another change brought by Damen. Vannes is a vital part of his council. But lately she has been too intent on looking behind his veil. She is experienced and sharp enough to see how it is depleting his strength.

He grits his teeth at his unintended show of affection that the wedding invitation has caused  in the fortnight since its arrival, but he is trying to gain back ground.

He has his dignity and she has her place which she should be watching. Perhaps a rebuke is in order he thinks.

He shoots a look at her, subtle enough to be informing but not insulting. Not at this stage.

“How is Aquitart treating Prince Torveld?”

He asks Herode, washing his already clean fingers in the bowl. He doesn’t think he can stand the sight of food for a moment more. Another give-away of the turmoil inside him.

“He’s been on a few hunting trips. Has been negotiating a deal with a local breeder on supplying steeds to improve his mountain regiment’s patrolling reach. He’s been very generous, his soldiers have been aiding the locals in building reinforcements to the outer walls of the castle, and also in training the green recruits in your majesty’s garrison settled at Aquitart, with the recent changes there have been quite a few volunteers coming in from the local villages. It is estimated that by coming winter, the garrison may be a Thousand strong.”

How Laurent wishes he could go to Aquitart. Away from court, in his own little corner of the world and relive the pleasant memories made there in peace.

This desire, he assures himself has nothing to do with how he would be halfway closer to Ios. Perhaps half better at peace.

Vannes pulls him out of his thoughts again.

“My king, the Kyros of Ios will depart from Merlas with his retinue on the morrow in order to officially bring you the invitation of your Brother King’s wedding according to the Veretian traditions. Radal informs me that all preparations are underway for his stay at the palace.” Vannes says with a blank face, nodding at Radal who stands to the side, hands held in front, in perfect posture. How Damen had struggled under Radal’s tutelage. The memory of it strange and hollowing for Laurent.

“I don’t think I need to stress on the importance of everything being flawless. My brother king is to marry and I want everyone to see how we rejoice in his happiness. The games, the feasts, prepare everything as perfectly as you would if it was your own king’s royal wedding.”

Just because Laurent’s emotions are all over the place since the arrival of the announcement, it does not mean that his policies are all over the place too.

He is taking refuge behind elaborate customs, temporary as that refuge may be.

He needs to catch his breath, stifle this internal bleeding before he jumps into the melee of wills against Damianos again.

“Your will shall be done my king.” Radal bows reverently.

If Damen wants a wedding. He will have a wedding. Vere has always taken pride in its extravagance. And Laurent knows how this very Veretian flamboyance and extravagance chafes at Damen’s simplistic Akielon sensibilities.

Sometimes Laurent’s schemes are nothing but an impulse, and instinct.

He is still undecided in his diagnosis.

He still is on boundary regarding the intention behind Damianos’ wedding.

Naturally and politically, it is important for Damianos to wed and provide the throne with an heir. Nikandros’ sister is an ideal candidate to provide Akielos with an heir and be its queen.

Even his own council has brought up this topic time and time again since his settling the court at Arles.

Yet.

An undeniable part of him feels as if this wedding is Damianos’ retaliation towards him. A punishment. And by making the wedding a spectacle Laurent will embrace his punishment so vehemently that it will give even Damen a pause as to what to make of it.

Yet.

Another stubbornly hopeful and probably foolish part of him whispers that perhaps Damen wants him to retaliate, fight back against this wedding, try to reclaim Damen for his own. Perhaps this wedding is Damen’s attempt to force Laurent to declare his feelings for Damen. To beg and plead. Break down that wall Damen has built around his heart. Perhaps it’s natural even. Now that Damen has taken Laurent’s ability to build walls around his heart and soul, that Laurent should borrow Damen’s ability to ram and break through those walls.

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Always being forced to change himself. To become what he isn’t.

He is always at war with himself. With what is his duty and what he desires?

He never wanted to fight. He was made to. At expense of his love for knowledge.

He never wanted to be king. He was forced to become one. At expense of his beloved brother.

He never wanted to love. He was forced to. At expense of his dignity and secrecy.

Now he has to earn back that love, if it even is possible? If he should give space to that hope, if he is being forced to, it will be at the expense of going against his very own nature.

But Laurent will not give in to all of it without at least embarrassing Damen a little bit by making his ‘wedding’ a spectacle.

If Damen is setting a board again, if he lets himself hope again, then Laurent is going to play, but he will play by his own rules.

He might lose again.

And badly.

But he might win.

Damen loves him, he knows this as he knows that the sun rises in the East and sets in the West.

And Laurent has been brutal with Damen’s heart.

Careless, because he never thought that Damen would ever give him up.

He never thought there was a limit to Damen’s endurance against Laurent’s vicious blows.

He deserves to be punished, but when has he ever given weight to what is deserved?

He wants Damen. Wants to be the only one that possesses Damen.

Because the harsh truth of the matter is, where Damen has a big enough heart to give away again and again, and Laurent knows that Damen will love him forever. It will not stop him from loving Rhona.

But Laurent will only ever love Damen.

His heart is only big enough to contain Damen inside it.

His heart is not strong enough to give Damen up.

His heart is not brave enough to sacrifice himself one more time.

His heart will never recover from this blow. It will implode and perhaps turn him into a monster.

It will turn him into his uncle.

An unfeeling, craven, scheming, disgusting and self-serving creature.

Because all of the good that has been in Laurent before meeting Damen, and all of that Damen awoke in him will die with this blow.

He knows his propensity to cruelty.

He knows how far he can go. And went.

And he did that to the man he loves with all of his heart.

If he loses Damen for good, he will never be able to reconcile his own cruelty with himself. If Damen does not forgive him and does not love him back, he will rot inside.

No. He is wrong.

He will be worse than his uncle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments. Nothing delights a fanfic writer more than feedback. I need your words to guide me because this is a new fandom for me. I don't know the precedents that have already been set because I have not read any fanfics for Captive Prince series. So please keep that in mind. Also if anyone knows any Wikia type of information source regarding the world of Captive Prince, please let me know. Thank you for the kudos and love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has grown to love moments like these. When a fight could go either way. When you really started to doubt if this was just a practice or were you really fighting for your life. There was some kind of fondness for him in every kind of deception. It reminds him of ‘the one’.

**Chapter 3**

 

Just when he thinks the fight is almost over, the blows start to come faster.

He parries one and sidesteps another, his breath catching a little.

Next one comes full blast over his left side and the jarring impact on his blade makes his teeth grind.

He has grown to love moments like these. When a fight could go either way. When you really started to doubt if this was just a practice or were you really fighting for your life. There was some kind of fondness for him in every kind of deception. It reminds him of ‘the one’.

His opponent is almost as skilled as him. Strong and a little too familiar with his moves.

But there were a few new things he has learned recently.

His father always said,

_“A true warrior never stops learning, he learns from his friends, he learns from his foe, he learns from peace, he learns from war, he learns from every adversity and every miracle. A true warrior is the one who makes learning his greatest weapon and understanding his shield.”_

A sliver of a second of hesitation from his opponent at his fake skidding and his blade has crossed the safe barrier of the foil armor and touched the lightly bearded chin of his opponent.

Nikandros blinks down at him, as if he can’t believe it.

Damen smiles at him before pulling himself up from the half kneeling position he had taken to show as if he had lost his balance and was ripe for the taking.

“You tricked me.” Nikandros whispers. His hand loosening on his practice sword.

“You let yourself be tricked.” Damen whispers back smiling in a way that he knows really irritates Nikandros.

He turns away and nods at a servant who rushes to him to help remove his foil breast plate.

His muscles feel well-worked and there is a pleasantly weary buzz in his head.

A smile of a memory.

Where everyone else is aghast of what this warrior has learnt from his ‘once’ foe.

He only feels a strange sort of alleviation when everything that Laurent has changed in him displays itself. He feels it like a mark on his skin. He sees it as a gold brace on his wrist.

Damen can never begrudge Laurent for how he has changed him.

Wiser, stronger, sharper.

Honor, pride and justice are only applicable when all sides valued them the same.

Laurent has taught him that the rules always belong to the perpetrator.

And that one understanding was perhaps the most important of all his lessons.

Especially when he had to deal with the rest of the South, after his taking of Ios.

Ellium and Thrace were a challenge.

Kingsmeet and its whole guard had to be tried.

The nobility in those regions had always been at each other throats.

Kastor had played one family against the other and given power to those who declared their support for him.

So while the Kyros of Ellium, Rakander had flocked to Kastor’s side.

The Kyros of Thrace, young and the noble, Alvaros, A childhood friend of Nikandros and Damianos had been unseated and implicated in the ‘murder’ of Damianos because some of the prince’s house-hold guard who had been slaughtered were from Thrace.

It was only fortune or perhaps a scheme of his brother’s that Alvaros had not been tried and executed straight away. His execution would have made people of Thrace revolt against the new Kyros and Kastor in extension and as it was Thrace was the biggest source of food supply to the Capital.

The new Kastor- appointed Kyros of Thrace, Salvador was also from a powerful family and was not going to give back the seat of Thrace without a fight after Ios was reclaimed.

Foolish on his part.

Damianos was not the same man anymore.

He took a leaf out of Laurent’s book.

Spies and birds, and unveiling secret positions.

It took him a month. But in the end when one’s family is abducted and imprisoned. One has to give in.

And give in Salvador did.

And Damianos sent Salvador into exile on pain of death, his heir was sent to Sicyon as a ward, while the rest of his family remained at their ancestral home under Alvaros‘ protection in Thrace.

Rakander of Ellium on the other hand was craven enough to come back into Damianos’ fold in order to save his skin.

Damianos gave his seat to his step-brother Sorokoras and made Rakander the warden of sea-hold of Isthima. A small position of power and comfortable living, but far-removed from his court politics and council. And all correspondences under watch.

He would not have been able to deal with all had he not learnt under Laurent’s unintentional tutelage.

“I don’t know if I should be awe-struck or angry with you these days.”

Nikandros says as he slips into the warm bath opposite him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

A pretty slave with long dark hair and full lips slips alongside him and Damen shifts a little, a reflex, too quick for him to consciously block.

Nikandros’ eyes narrow a bit.

“I did not invite you to bathe with me.” He scolds half-heartedly. Smiling guiltily at being caught in his unease. He is secretly pleased with how casual and reminiscent of old times his friendship with Nikandros has become.

“You did not instruct me otherwise, Exalted.” Nikandros’ says impishly and shakes his head at the slave girl who quietly yet gracefully climbs out of the bath. Her naked form enough to make any man’s core shudder and take heat.

But all it reminds Damianos of is pale skin and blonde hair and bondage.

He looks away and down only to meet Nikandros’ scrutiny.

Once the slave is out of sight, Nikandros sighs as if preparing for a speech.

“It’s not what you think.” Damianos says before Nikandros can utter a single word.

“I would like to know what it is then if you would tell me, though you do not owe me.”

“It’s not because of Laurent…” Nikandros looks at him in disbelief.

“They brought in a slave to wash me in slave’s bath after I was taken by Kastor’s men. To prepare me to be sent as a gift to the prince of Vere. They tried with soldiers but I would not be contained, so they brought in a slave. A pale and blonde slave girl. And she washed me to be made into a slave from a prince. To this day I can feel her touch on my skin as it is so closely associated with the closest and most intimate betrayals. Her touch will always remind me of how I was killed. Betrayed by my own blood, my brother, betrayed by my own heart, the woman I thought I loved and then betrayed by my own body, because despite all of that I was going through, my body still responded to her touch. It was the ultimate loss of control and I can never stand it again.”

The paleness of Nikandros’ face is enough to give him pause. He forgets that being in Vere had acclimatized him to his slavery in a vastly different way, but what he has disclosed to Nikandros, as an Akeilon is devastating and brutal. Schemes are against their very grain, betrayal is monstrous and not pragmatic.

So.

He does not mention that he was betrayed yet again, but this time by the touch of his master. His beloved. How his desire and love and stupid, stupid trust was thrown back in his face.

He knows the feelings and emotions were always real between Laurent and Damen.

But could he trust his own knowledge and instinct after being slapped for it so many times in the face?

Feelings matter little when the actions that follow them leave one bleeding and suffocating again and again.

To love someone and be beaten down by them, again and again.

Beaten down and reeled back in because he was a prized fighter? A formidable general? Naïve enough to fall for the same trick again and again?

His love had allowed him to play the game Laurent was playing to the end.

The Kingsmeet and all that had followed was his final letter and his last action to be led by the love he felt for Laurent.

He had been on a path and it needed a conclusion. He would die or he would win.

He had won, but with that last stab of Kastor’s knife he had let his naiveté bleed out of him.

His love had to be contained and stalled away. His trust separated from it.

He had Laurent to thank for this too. For a different perspective. An understanding for different sensibilities that will help in future relations between their vastly different cultures and values.

He was a king now. He had to think that way, learn it all as millions of people depended on his intelligence now.

He still loves Laurent with all the heat of the blood in his veins.

But he will not be used by Laurent again.

He will not kneel and surrender again.

He will never trust his ‘knowing and feeling’ again.

He will still give in to his desire, to see Laurent, to behold him in all his glorious splendor.

King of Vere, the king of his captive heart.

But he would never again let himself live inside that captive heart again.

He will tame himself by the pragmatism and sensibility that Laurent has armed him with. But before all that learning can come to fruition.

He needs to see Laurent. In his own habitat. In the world Laurent has made for himself.

He could never keep away from Laurent. He would not weaken himself with pining and longing.

Which was why he is leaving Merlas with Nikandros the next day for Arles. Without Laurent’s knowledge.

He needs to see Laurent one last time as just himself, as Damen. Before he ties himself as Damianos to another.

He needs to see because he can’t risk to just feel.

He needs to indulge in his instinct this last time before he shuts it away forever and devotes his affection to another.

He would never love Rhona, they both know that.

But he will adore her.

And for him to do that, he needs to free at least his adoration from the one who holds all of it, iron-tight in his silky grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if I get some info wrong, I am going mostly by my poor research skills here, so if anyone has some sort of compiled info source regarding the captive prince trilogy, please let me know.
> 
> It is inevitable that I will have to add some original characters to fill out the story in future. So far, I have only added some names, who will have no part in the future plot. It took me quite a while to invent some of them, but there you have it. I hope it is not annoying, but the original books are so compact that this is a necessary evil in order to write a fanfiction.
> 
> Thank you so much detochkina, saenda, Laurentknows, Elkandron, Jesus, mangogirl, frootzilla, maria_gk, notalizard for the comments and for the Kudos. You guys are nothing short of amazing. You can also find me on tumblr btw @  
> heerayni.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But how can he tell her how speaking Akielon makes him feel an inch closer to Damen?
> 
> Damen who spoke flawless Veretian but always switched to Akielon when his emotions got the best of him.
> 
> Angry, delighted, in throes of passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All main characters belong to C.S.Pacat. I am just playing with her toys for a while for my personal entertainment, in case it was not obvious.

**Chapter 4**

 

As he walks out of the council hall he notices that the day light is already fading.

The air is cool and soft but carries a promise of a chillier night.

His ever vigilant guards walk beside him at a little distance as if trying to give him a little sense of privacy. As he makes his way, away from his private rooms.

Seven more days and Nikandros will be here.

Watching his every move like a hawk.

He would delude himself that it is Damianos that has asked him to do so.

But he knows Nikandros by now.

They say, never claim to understand a man you have not travelled with or shared food with.

He has done both with Nikandros.

And he knows Nikandros with his straight mind, and very observant nature knows him better than perhaps even Damianos does.

Laurent smiles to himself.

There was a moment, a slight moment, when Laurent had felt that cutting jealousy towards Nikandros too.

When he had observed how intimate his friendship with Damen was.

How Nikandros and Damen seemed to have whole conversations by just looking at each other.

Nikandros’ love and devotion to Damianos, his prince and then his king has always been without question.

A friendship forged on a children’s playground. Two little boys rough-housing in the sand in that golden Akielon heat.

Scraps and tugs and laughter.

On the other side was,

Humiliation, betrayal, and pain.

That is what doused his jealousy in that fateful second.

He can never be compared to or weighed against Nikandros.

Which is why, only now he was realizing what a puzzle Damen was.

To know a friendship and trust like Nikandros’.

And to still give Laurent a place in his heart.

There is light and shadows that surround this puzzle in Laurent’s mind.

The thought that perhaps Damen found some nobility and loyalty in him and his actions, and thought him brave on some level, is a bright one. If so, he knows he will need to find and engulf in himself or even if it does not exist at all, to implant these qualities in himself.

But then there is the thought, that in his ultimate betrayal, indignity and humiliation, perhaps the only way for Damianos to survive with his sanity intact was to latch all his positive aspirations to Laurent. Laurent who was confusing and manipulative, but still better than many others that Laurent had made Damen observe as his pet and slave. Laurent who had tortured him physically and mentally but still provided him with food and comfort and never used him as a bed-slave. Laurent who had such a pitiful excuse for a benefit of doubt.

It makes him sick. To think the latter could be the truth of it. He has never been able to see any nobility in himself. And if Damen’s stops seeing any in him, what would be left for him?

His conduct since the day Damen had arrived had never been dictated by Damen at all. Until he had seen all of Damen’s capacity. From then on, his actions had been to get what he wanted and to make Damen act a certain way to Laurent’s advantage. And he had succeeded exceedingly.

He had saved Damen’s life after the assassination attempt on him because he knew Damen was integral to his plan of over-throwing his uncle. Damen was his trump card against his uncle.

And Damen proved to be so again and again.

Laurent _is_ now King of Vere.

He had been extremely pleased with his successful usage of Damen then.

Or so he thought.

The truth he now realizes was somewhat different.

The truth was that with every scheme of Laurent’s Damen fell into.

Laurent was falling for Damen.

He thought his knowledge of Damen’s true identity was his biggest advantage. He never realized that a part of him was also calculating the merits of all that Damen did for him in lieu of who Damen actually was.

Damen showed trust, devotion, and patience. For a Prince who was his sworn enemy.

Things that Laurent craved secretly. Things that Laurent deeply and madly wanted to have.

Damen was being used in Laurent’s grand-scheme of things, but Damen was sinking his claws deeper and deeper inside Laurent as well.

There had been no escaping it, Laurent thinks now that he sees it all.

 

Damen was what Auguste would have been.

Damianos had killed Auguste, but wasn’t that what Damianos was supposed to do? How could he not defend himself against his enemy?

Damianos and Auguste had fought on the battlefield and they had both fought honorably, it was just that Damianos had won. Had Auguste won, then Damianos would have met the same fate Auguste did.

His hatred for Damianos had always been extreme but based on a very weak claim.

More than anything Auguste would have appreciated dying by the hand of a worthy opponent.

Damianos had suffered for a victory that was well-earned, and because it was Laurent who had paid for that victory, Damen had suffered.

It was an unrelenting cycle of foolishness on his part. And a part of him knew it.

Damianos father had instigated the war in the first place.

Laurent’s uncle had made sure that the war went through during which he killed Laurent’s father.

And on and on the poison of his thoughts churned. With his acidic hatred always winning because of his warped sense of justice.

 

Until the days leading to Kingsmeet, none of Laurent’s actions had ever been to seem a certain way in Damen’s view. No his actions had always been to make Damen behave a certain way.

Laurent was who he was.

That first night he had given himself to Damen, had also started as a manipulation.

He knew what would seal Damen’s ultimately to his cause. And so naturally he had to give himself to Damen. There had to be some kind of payoff to make Damen stay on his own volition.

He laughs to himself, and shakes his head.

How naïve it was to think that he could dance with fire wearing gauze and make it out without a blister?

He knew it was a mistake making love for the second time that first night.

But he had lost control way before that.

And the next time he had given himself to Damianos had all been his heart, but, Damianos had not believed it, He had caressed it, loved it, worshipped it but Damianos had refused to hold it.

His chest hurts and his legs tremble with the memory of Damen’s body against his and he stops only to realize that he has stopped just a few steps away from what his destination has been all along.

He wants to laugh even louder when he realizes there are tears in his eyes.

He’s thrown himself on his own dagger.

His loneliness comes crowding in around him like a sea of blackness.

He’s gotten everything he wanted.

But lost the one thing he needed.

Damen.

Damen.

Damen.

Damianos….

“Lolo!” The delighted sound brings him out of the blackness.

Like a piercing sword of light.

“Lolo! Lolo! Lolo!” He looks up to see chubby hands and smiling face looking at him, beckoning him.

He can’t resist those beautiful huge almond eyes and that drooling smile.

“Lolo! Lolo! Lolo!” Darius coos at him as he reaches for the baby in the Nurse-maid’s arms.

Darius lets out a delightful shriek as Laurent throws him up into the air.

And just like that the darkness in his heart recedes completely.

Dark curls are soft under his fingers as Darius lays both his hands on Laurent’s face and looks into his eyes, first one then the other, as if peering into his soul as Laurent looks back into his beautiful dark eyes. It is such a peculiar way of greeting but it has been so from the first day that Laurent had held this baby in his arms.

And then come the wet kisses. He pretends to try and save himself from them which delights Darius even more as he giggles and attacks Laurent.

Such a happy baby. So vital and full of joy.

He wonders aglow, if Damen had been similar as a baby.

Darius is Damen’s nephew after all.

It is always a tragedy to separate a child from his mother.

But Jokaste had made that choice from the get very start.

Laurent had offered to take Darius, then only two months old, as his ward and Damen had accepted.

Becoming Laurent’s ward would keep Darius out of Akielon Politics and prepare him for a future in Vere as he would always be a liability in Akielos. Akielons did not hold Kastor’s memory fondly.

Jokaste had brought forward the token protest. But her exile to the Vaskian court had made those protests futile.

As it was Darius was to be under Laurent’s protection.

And If Laurent devoted himself to his ward and was a complete pushover for the year-old’s kisses and giggles, it was none of anyone’s business but his own.

Once the messy greetings are done with and Darius has somewhat calmed babbling into Laurent’s shoulder and drooling all over his brilliant velvet coat, Laurent looks to Mira and Sonja, Darius’ nursemaids.

“How is the cold now?” he asks them rocking Darius a little in his arm.

“All signs of it receded by noon-time your Majesty,” Mira answers her eyes deflected.

“And food?” he asks Sonja.

“Still not taking carrots, my Exalted, I do not understand, carrots always favourite before.”

“ _You can speak to me in Akielon Sonja._ ” He smiles at the Akielon woman switching languages smoothly.

“Then I never learn Veretian. Exalted.” Sonja says a determined expression on her face.

But how can he tell her how speaking Akielon makes him feel an inch closer to Damen?

Damen who spoke flawless Veretian but always switched to Akielon when his emotions got the best of him.

Angry, delighted, in throes of passion.

He takes a deep breath and looks down at the infant who seems to be settling in for a doze. And nods to the nurse-maids, dismissing them. It has been a long day.

He walks to the sitting area to the soft and well-placed chair in front of the fire-place which is his perch most evenings and sits down as Mira and Sonja return to the nursery to do whatever they do every evening.

He reclines settling Darius against his chest who coos softly and plays with the gold cuff on his wrist before his attention is taken over by the smooth large and bright blue, drop-shaped Lapis pendant on his chest that Darius promptly starts to chew on while rubbing his chubby golden-pink cheek against the soft velvet of Laurent’s coat.

He removes the delicate circlet from his head, a sign of his kingship, carefully, without jostling Darius cooing at his Jewel chew-toy, and places it on the side table where lays a stack of his books one of many signs of his frequent presence in the room. He ignores them for now and runs his fingers through soft black curls and softly starts singing the song he’d heard Akielon soldiers sing while they travelled towards Merlas, and finally recognized it as tune that Damen often hummed to himself when he was distracted while riding alongside Laurent all through their long fateful journey.

_Sweet and cool is joyful peach,_

_The garden, the rock, the sea the heat_

_That is where live all warriors brave_

_My home, beloved Akielos, sandy and sweet…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for the lovely comments and Kudos. You guys are lovely! I am extremely flattered and I hope you like the new itty bitty but important additional character. Let me know how you like little Darius.  
> I awwww'd myself so much while writing this.  
> Btw, the song in the end is made up. So it's cheesiness is all mine.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His heart stops for a beat.
> 
> He would recognize that perch and that riding stance anywhere, from however far.
> 
> He has it printed on the colourful tapestries of his mind.

**Chapter 5**

 

The over-cast makes the red of the flapping banners even brighter against the green earth. Over the night the weather’s taken a strange turn. Which is only right, because even nature has to be dramatic when Akielos meets Vere, Laurent thinks, perched gracefully on his silver steed, the red banners in his sight moving slowly but surely towards the reception ground that has been prepared just on the outskirts of Arles.

News had reached him the night before that the Akielos delegation had settled for the night about three hours outside of the city walls in order to be received officially this morning.

“That seems like most of the royal court of Akielos than just Nikandros’ delegation.” Vannes murmurs to him under her breath.

Laurent does not answer her. His eyes fixed on the riders that ride ceremoniously in a straight line before the center starts to part and two riders emerge from the center.

His heart stops for a beat.

He would recognize that perch and that riding stance anywhere, from however far.

He has it printed on the colourful tapestries of his mind.

He almost does not want to hope for a moment, almost inspects himself to see if he is hallucinating.

He is not.

“Only appropriate, as the King of Akielos himself rides into Arles, don’t you think?”

He only stops to see the widening of Vannes’ eyes, only to see that she understands what he has just implied and only to read that he needs her to stay put while he…

He rides forth. Without a thought, a plan, or better judgment.

As soon as his horse gains speed, he can see Nikandros falling back.

It fills his heart with an ache that even after so many endless days and so many endless leagues between them, they still have this link of mutual thoughts.

He cares some, but very little regarding what his assembled court or his soldiers or anyone in the whole world would think about this.

So filled is his heart with joy and disbelief that he cares little.

Damianos

Damianos

Damianos

Damen…

He sees Damianos pull back on his horse, slowing to an almost stop before he jumps down his horse.

He starts to do the same. His eyes fixed on the golden helmet which hides most of that face.

His horse has not fully stopped before he has one foot out of the stirrup and his leg already unwound to jump off his horse. He jumps off as soon as possible, a few steps away from his surprise guest.

Damen smiles at him like the sun, his eyes bright, as if Laurent is the most important thing in the universe. Laurent has no idea what his face is doing only that his chest hurts and he can hardly breathe for it. He does not know if his steps are well calculated as he closes the distance between them, his heart beating like a drum. His eyes want to fill and he wants to cry. He wants to sob and he is barely held together.

His breath catches when Damianos takes hold of him, when did he cross the chasm of the few steps between them? The smile from Damianos’ face is gone, there is a deep sadness there as he hungrily looks into Laurent’s eyes.

“Damen…” he manages to whisper before he is engulfed in those strong arms.

The scent of him so familiar. His fingers scramble for purchase on that Iron clad back as he buries his face in the crook of Damen’s neck, inhaling deeply, as if he hasn’t breathed for centuries.

I love you. His heart beats.

“I wanted to surprise you. You might scold me later, but it was worth it.” Damen murmurs in his ear in that beautiful accented Veretian, still holding him, crushing Laurent to himself, his tone and his hold don’t match at all.

“It is a pleasant surprise indeed…” Laurent answers, making sure that his voice does not give away his turmoil.

‘I love you Damen, I can’t be without you.’ is what he actually wants to say

Damen pulls Laurent back from himself and looks at his face as if he wants to devour it and Laurent childishly wants to cling back to that broad, lightly armored chest and escape from those dark eyes.

“How can it be possible that you have grown even more beautiful in the time since I saw you last?”

Damianos himself looks like a deity taken human form.

His curls are longer, his skin more vital and golden than ever. His shoulders even broader than before.

That body is King Damianos of Akielos from neck to toes.

That face though. That face is his Damen. Luscious lips straight nose, square jaw and big dark almond eyes generously lashed and so expressive.

“How have you grown even larger in the time since I saw you last?”

His steel clad chest rumbles in a deep laughter under the flat of his hands.

“I apparently can’t stop…” Damen says, shrugging in that carefree princely way he always did. His hands holding both of Laurent’s wrists now, his fingers caressing the Gold brace identical to the one Damen still wears himself.

“Neither can I…” Laurent answers. Smirking a little at how Damen’s eyes darken even more.

“No… that would be a travesty.” Damen almost whispers, his hands tightening dangerously on his wrist.

A drop of rain falls splat on Damen’s nose before Laurent can answer. Shaking them both out of their trance and Laurent realizes where they actually are.

“Welcome to Arles my brother king.” He says stepping out of Damen’s grip and putting forward his golden braced hand.

Damen just nods smiling a much benign smile taking Laurent’s hand with a similarly braced one.

“Thank you! It is good to be finally welcomed properly.”

And if Laurent were anyone else he would have missed the slight perturbed look in Damen’s eyes as turns his eyes towards the façade at Laurent’s back.

And Laurent despairs. As has become his lot in life.

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day light is wasted on honors, courtesies and respects paid.

Laurent feels like he is crawling out of his skin sitting next to Damianos, King of Akielos in the throne room and not being able to say a word he actually means.

But the worst part, if he is honest with himself, are the felicitations delivered.

Best wishes to the King of Akielos and his Queen to-be on their upcoming nuptials.

It sickens him.

He has not congratulated Damianos.

And he can see that Damianos has keenly noticed this.

And it is the reaction to this notice that is really weighing heavy on Laurent’s heart.

Damianos is worried. Damianos is not smug or triumphant or wry.

Damianos is worried.

Lunch hour comes and goes and the felicitations continue.

It is a few hours from sunset that he stands and declares that the King of Akielos will retire and those unable to pay their respects may do so the day after.

He walks out of the Throne room alongside Damianos. And once inside the corridors of the Silver palace he signals his guards to stay back. As he walks into the Royal quarters. Where he has arranged for Damianos to stay the duration of his stay in Vere.

Nikandros and most of Damianos court have been moved into the pre-arranged quarters.

He steps into the shared attendance hall, just a room that divides their personal spaces. Leading Damianos towards his resting rooms.

“Here we are.” He says as he enters the room and signals the prostrated servants to get out.

The reason for choosing these rooms in particular is how different they are from Laurent’s room and the rooms where he had kept Damen. 

These rooms face towards the Great mountain forests and once belonged to his Queen mother.

“That is a beautiful view.” Damen says, a peculiar expression in his voice.

Laurent turns to look at Damen and is arrested by how Damen’s eyes are fixed on him.

But no, he will not give in to this. Not yet. He needs to understand, make sure what is going on here.

“I guess congratulations are in order.” He says moving briskly towards Damen. His hands deftly reaching for the shoulder clasp that holds Damen’s luscious and resplendent cloak, with its blood red colour and gold accents. Damen stands still. Stone still as Laurent attends to him.

It takes him a few seconds to gain his voice again.

“What are you doing Laurent?” he asks, his voice pained and deep. Eyes cast down.

Laurent can’t understand this reaction. He feels as if he is missing something.

“Attending you…”

Laurent can see the words Damen’s lips are about to make and so he places the tips of his fingers over them.

“Attending you, because I want to.”

They are close now. So close that he can feel Damen’s warm breath on his face, can almost hear Damen’s heart beat in sync with his, because this is Damen, not Damianos. This is his Damen, with his unblinking, truthfully adoring stare. A stare that says that he can’t believe Laurent is a real person, such is his perfection. A stare that says that I will follow you and defend you to the end of the world. There is love in that stare and there is trust and for a moment. A fleeting moment, Laurent can see how within his grasp it all is.

In his heart he prays to the Gods that always take Damen’s face in his imagination.

“Please let me have this. Please do not let me ruin this. Let me have this, let me have my Damen.”

In his heart he begs and pleads and he realizes in its entirety that there will always be a King and a Slave when it comes to him and Damen.

Oh what an unbearably sweet and dangerous this scenario is!

And oh, how the tables have turned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Damen and Laurent finally meet, but wait.... What's going to happen next? :D  
> My only hint to that, is that the Sky being over-cast when they meet is symbolic... sort of an overshadowing.  
> Feel free to share your deduction with me in the comments. *wink* *wink* 
> 
> Thanks so much to the wonderful K.S.Morgan, Arane, Sasha, Alma, Ara, Cellystreet,Lrouse and harshinib, for your amazing and encouraging comments. You all are so sweet and so expressive and it helps a lot to get such feedback from you guys. Knowing I am doing something right makes the process go that much smoother. Thanks again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calculations behind every action.
> 
> ‘And you have fallen for it every single time!’ he thinks, it’s time you stop trying at all. Things will go as Laurent wills them to go and Damen can only be a spectator. Damen can only be a pawn in Laurent’s machinations.

** Chapter 6 **

 

‘Why does he always do this? Why is everything always a game or a war and these both infinitely interchangeable without any inkling of what’s what for those involved?’ Damen thinks as he stares at that impossible face.

“What are you doing Laurent?” he’d asked just a moment ago

And then Laurent’s answer had reminded him, as if he could ever forget just who it was in front of him. A game. Always with the games.

Laurent was attending to him, just as he had attended to Laurent countless times. Now he attends to Damen to show that they are equal now, and Laurent would symbolically pay him back for every wrong done to Damen.

He does not know who Laurent is trying to fool? Damen or himself?

Calculations behind every action.

‘And you have fallen for it every single time!’ he thinks, it’s time you stop trying at all. Things will go as Laurent wills them to go and Damen can only be a spectator. Damen can only be a pawn in Laurent’s machinations.

Still, a huge part of him hates himself for how helpless he is. He hates himself for the heat in his blood that demands that Laurent be his, in every way possible.

Laurent will ever only be Laurent’s. He knows this for a fact, but perhaps as Laurent is helpless against his own nature, so is Damen.

He hates how his emotions and desires are like fresh wet clay in those pale, beautifully deft hands.

He has no control. No control at all.

And because he can never hate Laurent. He hates himself for it.

His breath catches at the darkness in those unforgettable blue eyes. What is that all about?

But he’s distracted from the discrepancy again by those soft but insistent fingers removing his Iron- garments fastidiously.

A whole year of training himself against this surrender.

And here he is, undone and defeated by a pair of Icy blue eyes.

But there is something else there. Behind that fierce and defiant intensity, there is more. But he can’t risk to look too long. His armor is off now and Laurent is touching him, fingers tracing feather light over the gold pin that holds his chiton on his shoulder.

It’s been too long, he can hardly breathe, and the need for Laurent is a phantom pain in his chest cavity. His heart, beating like a bruise being poked.

HOW MANY TIMES WILL HE FAIL AT THIS?

Every cursed time it seems.

So if he has no control over what is happening, he can at least control what he can do.

He takes hold of that face, elegant and breathtaking. And he wants to look some more but instinct is saying something else and before he can consciously do it, Laurent has moved forward, brushing his lips against Damen’s. There is a moment of stillness, when his eyes are still trapped in those blue ones, widened and desperate.

And then it’s chaos.

The kiss is devouring, all-consuming and Laurent is so bold and fast, his hands clasping at Damen’s hair in unforgiving fists. The kiss speaks of pain and possession and love and longing and Damen can’t help but gather Laurent’s body to himself, is he keeping himself from breaking into flames and pieces of flesh or Laurent, he does not know.

How he wants it. How he wants all of it. But he’s had enough of this loss of control. These moments where he loses control always come back to stab him at a later time. That is as it always has been with Laurent.

His weakness will not be forgiven and will be used at any future date.

And while Laurent may delude himself into not being hurt by hurting Damen, Damen knows that it takes a lot out of Laurent to give himself like this.

He would not let Laurent and himself suffer from this anymore. It falls to him, his control, Laurent is addicted to his games and has gone farther to gain the upper hand than anyone Damen has ever known.

But it only adds to Laurent’s skewered view of himself in the long run.

Damen won’t let even Laurent himself to add to that.

This is the cost of loving someone as fragile and ballistic as Laurent.

He has to save Laurent from himself.

It is the most difficult thing to do.

His body is not listening to his mind’s command. But he is more than his body. This is his challenge. If he can resist Laurent just this once, he would know that he has over-come that weakness that Nikandros always accuses him of. The weakness that almost lost him his Kingdom after taking away his father.

He will prove himself strong-willed when it comes to those he loves.

And there is no one he loves more than Laurent.

And he knows Laurent loves him too.

But he is not convinced that Laurent fully knows that he loves Damen as well.

There is a flash behind his closed eyes as he remembers the vision that was Laurent’s soundless smile at seeing him. Such un-guarded joy.

A part of him says that it might have been for show.

But the other part knows it wasn’t.

With great reluctance, he pulls out of the kiss. This lips tingling from the friction and his breath out of rhythm.

There is silence on the other side.

Laurent, it seems is not even breathing.

Damen finally opens his eyes when the fingers let go of his hair.

Laurent’s eyes are looking into the distance just behind his shoulder still as close as two people can be without kissing, like a statue.

The stillness is too profound and Damen is almost frightened of what may come next.

He is ready. Has been ready since he decided to come see Laurent.

Why did he come to see Laurent?

Because he could not help it. That was the truth of it.

And now he cannot give in to Laurent.

Because he is Laurent and he cannot help it either.

What a tragic pair they make.

The movement when it comes is like half of himself is being wrenched away from the other half.

Laurent is stepping out of the circle of his arms. Cold and forlorn.

Damen wishes to say something profound enough to make Laurent understand why he is doing this.

But words have abandoned him, except Laurent’s name.

Laurent’s eyes are still fixed on that same point behind his shoulder.

“Laurent…” he finds himself uttering.

Laurent is stone, diamond and marble and perhaps also an ice-capped mountain when he finally looks at Damen.

So impersonal are his eyes as if Damen is the most insignificant stranger.

And this, this is why Damen can’t give in. This preternatural power that Laurent has, to make you believe he loves you and then turn against you as if you were never more than a piece of marble on his playing board.

Damen knows there is more under the surface. Damen knows he has reached deep inside that chest and perhaps hurt that fragile heart, but he cannot ignore the surface reaction.

How many times can he fight against his own damaged self-worth and Laurent’s vicious attacks on it and win, and then break through that wall of diamond that is Laurent’s personality by his bare hands in order to reach that  beating heart inside? 

He wants the answer to that question, to be ‘infinite times’.

But it’s not. He does not have the stamina to take that much damage.

If it was his body, he would take it without a second thought.

But it’s his soul that Laurent plays with.

And his soul has seen too many betrayals.

Why is he the one to always beg? Why is he the one always asking and searching for the scraps of Laurent's affection and only getting them when it’s convenient for Laurent?

He only has so much of himself to spend so carelessly.

He is determined to see where this goes, but this time he is also determined to not be the only one who pays the cost.

They are both bruised. They have both suffered equally.

He has shown his hand again and again.

And though he sees his greatest fear and heart-break take form in near future by calling Laurent’s bluff.

He is calling it.

He has given himself to Laurent so many times.

This time he will leave with a piece or a final kind of peace.

It will hurt.

But when has it not?

Laurent keeps stepping back his lips reddened from the harsh kiss between them, while still facing Damen who fights his inner turmoil at the decision that he has come to.

Laurent keeps stepping away until he has reached the opulent doors. Which is when he finally looks into Damen’s eyes again with and undecipherable look. ‘Why does it look like triumph?’ Damen thinks.

“Laurent.” He says again without knowing how he will follow up that one word or what he even means it to do.

Later, perhaps hours later, or mere moments, Damen can’t tell. Laurent turns away and steps out of the door, his back straight without a glance back, closing it behind him carefully.

Damen stands fixed on the spot, half-dressed and confused.

Wondering why it feels like he has started something far more dangerous than anything he has endured before?

Because that is exactly how it feels.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The invisible strings between them were taut, but only to those who knew where to look. Otherwise Damen and Laurent danced around each other as they always did.  
> Laurent with his sarcastic and bored yet alert commentary on all events unfolding.  
> And Damen with his dignified yet simple-minded approach to all things being discussed with moments of brilliance exploding just when no one expected them to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the Longggg delay between chapters. I have been busy with house-guests this past week. I hope to be forgiven... Or maybe not after you read this chapter. Just a warning, it's gonna be rough. So enjoy! Because we all know, if you are reading fanfic of Captive Prince trilogy, you like it rough... (Ugh! Bad pun! I apologize profusely)

His feet are soundless as he enters the nursery wing. He is late, he knows, and now he is also ashamed of the reason of his tardiness. He feels even more chagrined that Darius might have fallen asleep waiting for him, looking at door as he did again and again, Sonja had told him. It has only been a day and Laurent already feels like he will at any moment explode.

Outside the Sky has grown red with pregnant clouds, looming ominously for past two days, but have shed very little rain. His terrain master say it’s indicative of a bad storm.

A storm indeed. Still brewing.

Yesterday’s debacle has given him a sense that he is yet too unprepared and fragile to face Damen alone.

To not face him at all is extremely impractical if not impossible. The man is Laurent’s royal guest. So he had buried all their time today in formal meetings and new trade agreements, which he had had prepared for Nikandros to actually take back to Akielos.

All through the sitting and meals Damen had remained close to him. Watching him like a hawk. Anytime Laurent’s eyes had gone up to Damen’s, Damen was looking back. It was annoying and terrifying at the same time. Because the man he knew, would have cornered him at one of the many intervals that presented themselves, but Damen just watched.

The invisible strings between them were taut, but only to those who knew where to look. Otherwise Damen and Laurent danced around each other as they always did.

Laurent with his sarcastic and bored yet alert commentary on all events unfolding.

And Damen with his dignified yet simple-minded approach to all things being discussed with moments of brilliance exploding just when no one expected them to.

He very softly pushes the door open, so that his arrival is soundless for the baby that is most probably asleep.

But his ward is not asleep, nor waiting for him.

The familiar sound of unrestrained giggle is what freezes him just inside the door and only then does he notice the broad back clad in a deep green tunic, and the arms that are extended high above his head with a squirming and shrieking toddler held aloft, doing a parody of flying.

His heart blooms and bleeds at the very same moment.

Transported back to his very first few days as king, how he had dreamt those first days after they had defeated The Regent and Kastor.

How he had spoken in that moment of heat when Damen lay bleeding on the marble, of joining their kingdoms and being together.

Akielos and Vere together.

How for a moment his mind had travelled that path. How he would marry Damen in a royal ceremony and how they could nominate Darius as the heir to both the thrones of Vere and Akielos. How they could build a bigger and much more beautiful Castle at Merlas, a beautiful amalgamation of Akielos and Vere, just like it’s rulers, ruling together till Darius came of age and how they could teach Darius to be both Noble like Damianos and shrewd like Laurent. How Darius could become the indomitable warrior and an unmatched politician under their tutelage.

A boy’s dreams. A foolish boy in love.

Undoubtedly, Vere and Akielos could stand together and do stand together.

But undoubtedly, Vere and Akielos could never be together. Only through royal marriage and joining of royal blood-lines was it possible.

And as things stood, it was never going to be possible.

A few days of being together here and there.

But never together forever.

But his foolish, boyish heart had reached for it nonetheless.

Waking up every morning in Damen’s arms.

Training together.

Ruling together.

Growing old together.

Such sweet and foolish fancies.

“Lolo!” Darius shrieks bringing Laurent out of his melancholic thoughts.

Damen turns the toddler held to his shoulder now.

His eyes widen for a moment and there is silence for a heartbeat before he speaks.

“I… I was told that I can see the little one whenever I wished.”

The uncertainty in Damen’s eyes and posture is strange yet endearing.

“Of course. He is your nephew.” Laurent answers. A bit mesmerized by the surprised encounter and past dreams.

“Lolo!” Darius is now getting restless in Damen’s arms, trying to reach out to Laurent.

“Yes, yes… I am here my love…” he says, strangely uncaring of showing this side of him to Damen.

He does not know his motivation behind this, but he does not inspect it either.

Moving closer Laurent comes to stand next to Damen. Spreading his hands in a come hither gesture towards Darius. Who observes Laurent’s face and then the spread out hands and then after a few seconds of contemplation makes a leap for Laurent, earning a surprised gasp from Damen.

But Laurent is infinitely more used to the child in question and catches him effortlessly before transferring his momentum into a steep dive and then an upwards flight, which earns his loud shrieks of laughter and incoherent ordering and requests. And Laurent bathes in it. Unconscious of his surrounding and his outlook. Darius is joy and light to him and he can’t help but sponge up all that pure, untainted adoration greedily.

“You would be a great father someday.” Damen voice cuts through his reverie with the little bundle of joy in his arms who is now worn out and snuggling into Laurent’s chest.

It’s astonishing that Darius could make even Damen fade from Laurent’s immediate interest for a few moments.

But the words. The words are a bucket of worms.

Embittering the sweet and delicate moment, pricking at Laurent’s heart viciously.

He keeps it inward though, the blades of rage that he feels just under his tongue, he keeps it hidden.

He moves quietly and gracefully to lay the dozing child in his arms into the cot at the far end of the nursery, to give himself some space from the darkness Damen’s words have brought to the fore-front of his mind.

“It is not like you to forget things Damen,” he says quietly, as he turns to move towards the door. He wishes to leave this discussion here and for good.

But Damen follows him outside, Laurent watches Sonja come in from the corner of his eye as Damen shuts the door behind him.

But before Laurent can move away Damen has taken hold of his wrist and is dragging him to an alcove hidden from the view of the guards standing by the terrace railingjust a few steps away.

It is rougher than he expects when his back meets the elaborately latticed border of the wall, but he has just a blink to feel it when Damen is occupying in breathing space.

“That is my curse Laurent.” He says his voice dangerously on edge and his dark eyes void in the shadows cast by the ominous, deeply clouded sky.

“That is my bloody curse Laurent, that I remember everything!” Laurent for some reason tries to move himself forward, but Damen holds him back, a large hand tangled in the laces that hold Laurent’s doublet together. His hand, a weight on Laurent’s heart, and all of a sudden Laurent is afraid of being flayed open for all to see, for Damen to see.

“No, You see, I have not forgotten anything, not a kiss, not a scratch, not a lash, not a plead for mercy, not a betrayal, not being used and not a single cruel jab delivered from those lips of yours, none of it is forgotten, though I have tried, I swear to anything you hold sacred…” his voice breaks, and finally there is a shine in those void eyes and Laurent can’t catch his breath.

“I have tried…I have tried Laurent, how I have tried… I have not forgotten a single moment that we were in each other’s presence, I have not forgotten, but that does not mean that I am any more aware of what you say, which is true and what is not? You said that you did not know what manner of man I was because I had not told you who I really was even though you knew who I was all along and all those endless days by your side, protecting you, counseling you, caring for you, equipping you, were just gone, with a single utterance of those words, I was nothing, I was no one to you but your worst enemy and your painful ally and a commander of an army that was to be cut down fighting your battles. I was nothing. I am still nothing but words you have said to me and deeds that you have done to me which were and never will be forgotten Laurent. Never.”

“Damen…” he hears himself whispering a plead, his chest is too heavy to produce more sound, the barrage of emotions and his own blindness pressing at him. His hand reaches for that beautiful face, but is stopped midway by Damen’s own. It hurts even more, this being repelled from touching too. He should have known better. The rejection is as hurtful as the realization of the magnitude of damage he has wrought on the one he loves the most.

“It is not like you to forget Laurent, Do you not remember? There is no Damen, Damen is nothing. Damen was a slave, a toy, a weapon, a tool to be used by you. I am Damianos of Akielos, the king, the prince Killer. That is the manner of the man that stands before you now. I have not forgotten, though I have ceased to be. You should not forget also, but you will always ever be Laurent I am afraid, A monarch, a God among men, and Gods never forget either.”

And as cruelly as he had come he is gone.

And Laurent is left pressed against the wall, barely able to breathe, his face still heated by the warmth of Damen…. No, Damianos’ breath.

He does not move from the spot for an eternity. It is finally the loud flash of lightning followed by a deafening crack of thunder that makes him come into his senses as Rain starts to fall and Laurent is melting in it as if he is made of salt. So he runs.

That night as it pours, Laurent drinks. He drinks the storm and the rain.

He drinks and sobs for the love that seems so far lost, without his ever realizing.

He drinks for his crown, he drinks for his ancestors, he drinks for his childhood.

And he sobs for Damen, the one his words killed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for the appreciation my lovely people. You guys are great for giving me treats that are your wonderful comments, in exchange with chapters that make you cry and break your heart. Our relationship is weirdly beautiful, won't you say? Please do leave a comment to let me know what you think of the story and your opinions may guide the story in future, even if not the end game, it still may effect how we get there, so keep in touch! Love you all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sees the golden hair, spread across deep coloured cloth of his pallet. And it is his pallet. The overcast light that filters in from the high windows leave a dull smoky glow on everything, and there is so very little in this room still.   
> “How does it feel, now that you have returned the debt two-fold and made me your slave in my own kingdom Damianos?”

 

It had not stopped raining for the past three days in Arles.

And with the rain came the rats and the water and the cold.

Akielons with their sunny and warm climate grew tired of rain very quickly.

But more than that it was the tense environment within Arles that was really grating on all that were present.

Since the sun had not shown its face for past three days, it seemed, to Damianos that Laurent had not either.

Though he was sat right there in front of Damianos.

Quite serene, like a marble statue as always.

But the eyes. The eyes that were always the pinnacle of Laurent’s vitality.

Those eyes that kept everyone and everything in sight.

Those pellucid blue eyes that sometimes seemed to be digging into your very own soul.

Those eyes were now placid too.

They never rose up to meet Damianos of their own accord.

And when they were encouraged, they were unaware. Turned inwards, never-seeing.

Damianos now regretted his outburst with a passion.

A part of him knew that he deserved to say every word he had said and Laurent deserved to listen.

But then, a part of him also knew that he would be nothing without all of Laurent’s machinations.

Cruel and hurtful and jarring as they may have been. They had borne fruit.

But the thing that cut most at Damianos was the fact that Laurent had not saved or excluded himself from any of those machinations and their aftermath himself.

What cut at Damianos was the realization that what Laurent said and did in all those months was not to be intentionally cruel, but just what and how he was taught to do things.

And while Laurent was aware of all that he was causing. Did he really know? Had he been really taught how to face the consequences of his actions?

Laurent’s Uncle had always left the consequences to be felt and suffered by others. That was the kind of power he wielded and had taught Laurent to wield. But Laurent suffered from the consequences without even knowing it.

Could Damianos truly say Laurent was a happy, spoiled Prince when he met him for the first time? Could Damianos claim that Laurent was a careless, brash and unfeeling young-man who was flourishing?

No, Damianos could not say that at all. Had Laurent been all that, Damianos would not have been in the predicament he is right now. Desperately in love and suffering.

No, Laurent always felt too much, suffered too much. His nature clashed with his circumstances and his nurturing. Laurent was at constant war. Trying to reconcile between his sensibility that was innate and the strategy he was being force-fed. Why would he not fight and hurt and use and abuse love? It was all he knew. It was how he had been conditioned. And that perhaps was the biggest victory of the regent. He had been successful in poisoning Laurent’s heart.

Could Damianos, in all faith, blame Laurent for every cruelty that Laurent had imposed on him?

The thing was in heart of his hearts, Damianos had forgiven Laurent for every single instance.

It was just that in the process of that forgiveness his endurance had run out.

Yet, his heart asked for more. He was realizing now what a big mistake it was to come and see Laurent.

Yet he also could not see a scenario where he did not come to see Laurent.

He alone was to blame for this disaster in the making.

Laurent had been reaching out to him and he had stepped away.

It was true that he could not bear for himself to fall into that pattern of desire and worship again only to be rejected again and drained again like a carcass of a hunted animal.

But what if that was not the case this time? What if the year they had been apart had finally brought about a change in Laurent’s heart? What if this time Laurent was willing to love him back without bleeding him dry?

It was a shuddering thought.

What would that be like? He had never even allowed himself to dream of it, the dream where Laurent loves him back, the dream where he actually has Laurent.

It was a blinding dream. A paradise where Laurent would be his, to be worshipped and loved, every night and every morning. A haven where they would build a home according to their deepest desires.

It was such a powerful dream that only a moment after its actual conception in Damianos’ mind, its loss was shattering his heart.

Had he truly lost a chance of having that?

Could he have had that? It was impossible!

But his becoming the king of Akielos from a Veretian slave had been an impossibility only a year ago.

The movement beside him brought him out of his thoughts. Laurent had left his seat so quietly and excused himself so swiftly that Damianos only caught the indigo of his apparel before he was gone.

He looked at the untouched food in his plate and Laurent’s beside his.

“Exalted?”

He looked back at Nikandros.

“What answer should I give then?” Nikandros asks. As if he had been having a conversation all along Damianos’ reverie.

“Regarding?” he asked.

Nikandros frowned, his eyes shooting towards the exit through which Laurent had just stepped out.

“Regarding Rhona’s letter. She is visiting our Aunt at Karthas and wishes to come see Arles.”

“I do not think it’s wise in the circumstances. Do you?” Damianos said.

Nikandros raised his brow.

“The storm Nikandros, It is too long a journey by horse and the sea is treacherous for at least two weeks, you heard the warning the Sea-master sent just this morning.”

“Yes, I heard it, I was just checking if you had heard it.” Nikandros said chuckling. Damianos only shook his head in irritation.

“Now if you really have your wits about you, isn’t it about time that you fixed whatever that is all about?” Nikandros said pointing towards the exit Laurent had just taken.

And all of a sudden it was so simple. The only way.

“I think it is.” Damianos said, a sudden rush in his blood. He did not know if he could fix whatever he had broken three days ago, but he would not know if he did not try.

He stood up with purpose.

Striding out of the hall swiftly. He went straight towards the King’s Quarters. Only to find them empty.

It did not take him too long to have an inkling of where Laurent might have been, and it took him even less time to make his way towards Laurent’s old quarters, he felt that he should have known that this is where he would find Laurent.

The doors, the lattice work, the intricate draperies. It was all the same.

A strange feeling in his chest was flowering with every step he took through the familiar corridors.

He felt the echoes of his past unfolding around him.

He took a familiar turn and felt the muscles in his back tightening, his scars stretching. And there it was at the end of the long corridor, a door ajar, so inconspicuous and his cage. He felt it breath in him. He was still a prisoner in his dreams sometimes and perhaps a part of him will always live inside this prison.

At long last he stood just outside the open door, so welcoming, yet he wondered if he would ever be able to leave once he entered through them. It was an irrational fear, but then again, there had been so many things he had been unable to rationalize and reconcile within his own psyche since that fateful day his father died.

He sees the golden hair, spread across deep-colored cloth of his pallet. And it is his pallet. And those were his chains that Laurent’s fingers caressed and tangled in so lovingly.  The overcast light that filters in from the high windows leave a dull smoky glow on everything, and there is so very little in this room still.

“How does it feel, now that you have returned the debt two-fold and made me your slave in my own kingdom Damianos?”

There is so much raw pain in that voice that Damianos can hardly bring himself to answer out of shock.

Laurent slowly straightened up from his seat on the floor, still facing outwards towards the tall windows.

“You think I have forgotten all the pain and suffering and heartache I have wrought on you? If you thought me so cruel and careless, why love me at all? Why hurt for me, by me? Or are you also like those who see me as a beautiful possession. A perfect structure of skin and bones to take your pleasure from?”

“I should not have said those things to you Laurent. I never meant…” Damianos said moving towards Laurent feeling that unbearable pull.

Laurent got up and moved so quickly that Damianos hardly caught his movement. His hands shot out in front of him, as he put distance between himself and Damianos. Before finally facing Damianos, but the light from the windows was too smoky and cast shadows on that beautiful face. But he could feel those burning eyes nonetheless. That voice that grew lower and lower the angrier Laurent got.

“You never meant? You either meant all of it, or none of it! Do not think I do not know you Damianos! I know you just as well as I knew my Damen.”

Damianos raises his hand as he tries to embody understanding and reconciliation and patience.

“I meant that I don’t blame you for what happened between us, I see it now, why you did the things you did. It hurts that you never put me before your ambition, but why would you? Why would you put me before your kingdom and your people? We were enemies and then we were partners, but I wanted something different than you and it was never your fault if you did not feel the same way I did. It is just that I cannot endure the mockery of my truest emotions one more time. They are all I have Laurent. My emotions and my sword is all I have anymore.”

“Your sword and your emotions? Is that what you will offer to your beloved bride to be?” Laurent was smiling, only Damianos wished to forget it, so bitter it was. He was not ready to have this conversation with Laurent. But what did he really expect. That he could control the course of this conversation? Laurent will do as Laurent pleases. Laurent makes the rules, always. Anger was filling him rapidly at the insinuation, frustration was lapping at his temples. But Laurent was not going to back down until he got a rise out of Damianos.

“Your sword and your emotions… I wonder what that would be like. The legendary King Damianos, striking a bargain so poor with his queen? The only reason she would keep that bargain is because you will have trapped her and she would have no choice but to endure your emotions and…” and then he laughed….

Damianos was startled. He had never seen Laurent laugh like that. It’s beautiful yet grating, on his mind and his heart. He wanted to strangle Laurent at that moment. It was what he had been so afraid of. That shredding feeling of heart break and humiliation. 

He stepped forward and took hold of Laurent’s shoulders who was doubled over his stomach with laughter.

But Laurent’s face was turned down. His long hair was stuck to the side of his face, unkempt in a way that was so uncharacteristic of Laurent. The moment Damianos took hold of Laurent’s shoulders properly, it was as if there were no bones in Laurent’s body as he collapsed forward into Damianos. Only when Damianos finally steadied him against the wall and pushed his hair aside and touched his face did he feel the heat. The fever. Damianos had only felt such high fever once in his life, when he was just a boy, and his friend had not survived it. His heart skipped a beat out of sheer terror. The feverish eyes and dried lips and the tears. Laurent was now smiling at him, but this smile was not mocking, it was something else entirely. A trembling delicate hand reached out to his face, hot like a brand on his cheek.

“Damen?” Laurent sighed sweetly as if at peace.

But before Damianos could answer, Laurent had closed his eyes and had let go of reality. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lonnnnnngggggg haitus. There was a whole barrage of things in real life that caught up with me all of sudden and all at the same time. I apologize. Profusely. You are free to yell and rant at my incompetence by leaving comments. I love you all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘So this is how you punish me this time Laurent?’ his heart aches.  
> He turns his back on the healers.  
> ‘So this is how you have decided to win this time.'

_There was a time, when Laurent had known true happiness._

_He remembers soft fingers combing through his hair. A not very melodious but soft voice singing him a sweet poem about mountains and roses and snow and the sun. He remembers a velvet like touch and long beautiful and smooth spurned gold like hair curling around his fingers._

_He remembers that tinkling-soft laughter under his ear when he would snuffle deeply into the chest that pillowed him._

_“You my little Ice- prince let yourself be content so rarely, I wonder what the world will make of you.”_

_He burrows deeper in that warmth and he feels so immensely sad. He feels as if his heart is going to give out under the weight of his sorrow._

_Because every rare and precious moment of true happiness in Laurent’s life has been followed by an eternity of unbearable heart-break and sorrow._

_And now the warmth is slipping away and he can’t help but mourn and whine and claw at it._

_“Don’t go Mama… Take me with you.” He whispers his voice trembling and his body powerless. He feels that only part of him with any grip left in his hands._

_“Don’t be upset my Winter-rose, I am never far from you. I am in you, don’t you see?” He hears the voice but not in his ears. He hear it in his chest. Its freezing and he can’t breathe._

_“But I am so cold Mama. I feel as if I am freezing.”_

_“Don’t be silly my love... Don’t you know it is only in the freezing winter morning when the sun comes out that the Winter Rose blooms? It is time for you to bloom. The sun is up!”_

* * *

 

When he could, the first thing that Damianos does is put Arles on a lock-down. His personal guard finds no retaliation to this, which is surprising to him, but then again, in Laurent’s absence he is unquestionably in charge. He makes his personal guard confiscate all of the wines in Laurent’s Royal chambers and seals them shut, until Laurent’s recovery.

Damianos has been aware acutely of Laurent’s drinking habits in the past and the presence of so many bottles of so many types and many of them half empty is highly irregular. But then again Laurent has changed in so many ways in the past year that Damianos is questioning everything.

Vannes leading the council, does confront him on that first day. After all it is suspicious that King of Vere falls ill just days after the King of Akielos arrives with his full personal guard and half of his honor guard and puts Arles on lockdown. But she and the council run out of steam soon enough after they first hand witness his worry and desperation he thinks. He guesses he is exonerated even further when it is assured that Laurent has not been poisoned. After this everything quiets down around him and it seems as if the whole of Arles is silent at the tip of a sword.

Once he can, he also takes the bold liberty of situating Laurent in his own designated chamber under his own unblinking, watching eye as his own accompanying healer and Arles’ head healer work together on Laurent. He is frustrated enough to scare anyone to death he supposes. But then again it comes to the mostly detached attitudes of the Veretian aristocracy that works in his favour.

He takes it upon himself like a loyal guard-dog to sit beside the King’s bed all through days and nights and witness the delirium and pain which singes his heart. He has never seen Laurent in such a state, nor does he wish to ever again.

It is the third night when his endurance reaches its pinnacle and he cannot stop himself from confronting both the healers. Dragging them away and outside the chamber where Laurent shivers so mercilessly hands reaching upwards as if he clawing at the stars. His delicate skin papery and his lips colourless and dry and Damianos feels that he will surely go mad if he has to listen to the hoarse and desperately rattling whine for one more second.

The healers look at each other with wild eyes at his questions before the Veretian healer finds the courage to speak. Only it looks more like devastation than courage.

“I have seen this happen before. His Majesty’s mother, Queen Hennike, most people think she died because of complications in Child birth, but it was the fever. It’s true that the Child was still-born, but the Queen was desperate to have a girl, and when she was told the Child was a girl and still-born, it broke her heart. And she could not take it.”

“What are you saying? That this is because…” Damianos cannot complete the question, his heart is squeezing tightly in his chest.

“I am saying that there is no apparent reason for this fever and I am afraid that I find myself as helpless now as I was then when I stood by Queen Hennike’s bed and If Your Majesty thinks that my helplessness be rewarded with head off my shoulders I will accept it. I do not wish to live if my king dies because I could not ease his pain.”

Damianos stares long and hard in the old man’s wise and grieving eyes until he cannot see the despair lurking there anymore.

‘So this is how you punish me this time Laurent?’ his heart aches.

He turns his back on the healers.

‘So this is how you have decided to win this time.

This is how you will abandon me? Without forgiving me and without asking for my forgiveness?’

He steps back into the bed chamber and sees two of his servants trying to place a cooling cloth on Laurent’s head only to be constantly thwarted by the frenzied and agonizing movements of that lithe body.

Damianos can’t take it anymore.

“Out! Both of you! And tell Nikandros to put more guards outside and let no one enter including himself until I say so.”

His manner is so harsh and dangerous that the servants scramble without wasting a moment and shuffle out of the chamber closing the heavy oak door behind them.

He moves swiftly towards the bed, removing his clothes efficiently. His heart is hurting, but it is guiding him too. This is survival now. He only prays that his instinct will help him survive just the same here as it has done on the battlefield, as this might be the most important battle he ever fights. He is seething, He is so angry that he feels that he can bring the sky to his feet. And he thinks it is good. It is good to be angry and focused. He cannot help but let Laurent know exactly what he feels. He climbs on to the bed and under the soft covers that are warm from the inferno that is Laurent’s body at the moment.

“Those days are gone when I took your punishments and bore them down into my heart.” He whispers furiously, his arms slotting around Laurent effortlessly, his legs tangling with slender ones holding them tight and secure as he pulls Laurent’s body and situates himself behind him in a way that every part of Laurent’s body is in his secure hold.  He lowers his mouth to Laurent’s ear and he knows Laurent will listen. Laurent has to.

“I will not take it anymore you demon! I will not let you punish me by punishing yourself! Either we both live with our hearts or we both die of heartbreak. I will not bear this world without you sharing the burden, you hear me, It is either both of us or none of us.”

Damianos prays to the Gods that may listen to his plea and settles down, the love of his life secure in his relentless grip. Waiting for the outcome of the battle.

 


End file.
